ALBUQUERQUE. NEW MEXICO. Phoenix to Albuquerque isn’t that far. Six hours in an automobile if you’re traveling on the Interstate, or just fifty-six minutes if you opt for a flight. But when I decided to put some miles on the 2025 Kawasaki Versys 1100 SE LT that’s been sitting in my garage for the last few weeks. I figured, why not take the long way to ABQ? For science.
I’ve spent some time on sport touring motorcycles in the past, including a ride from Bologna, Italy, to Almeria, Spain, on a Multistrada 1260 in search of forgotten Spaghetti Western movie sets. I also spent the summer of 2023 on the smaller sibling of this 1100cc machine, the Versys 650 LT. So, when the opportunity to pick up the bigger, faster, more feature-laden iteration of the Versys platform presented itself, I took it as a chance to test a theory more thoroughly – that the best touring bikes are sport touring bikes.
The 2025 Versys 1100 SE LT is Kawasaki’s top-of-the-line sport touring motorcycle. It’s equipped with a 1099cc in-line 4-cylinder electronically fuel-injected motor that makes 133-hp at 9,000 rpm and 82.5 ft-lbs of torque at 7,600 rpm. And it’s outfitted with electronically controlled suspension and Showa Skyhook EERA technology, Kawasaki’s updated quick shifter, traction control, corner management “function”, and an intelligent anti-lock braking system. So, it’s basically a superbike with saddlebags, down a bit on power to make the ride more manageable.
My ride to the ABQ was a last-minute decision, prompted by some friends hosting an "Old School" Magic: The Gathering tournament to raise money for the New Mexico Children's Hospital. The girlfriend was also interested in attending, so we settled on making a weekend of it, with her tapping into a bit of PTO. The plan was to leave early Friday morning, riding out of the Phoenix valley on Highway 87. Travelling north through the Tonto National Forest and into the mountain town of Payson, we’d then head northeast toward Holbrook, where we’d connect with Interstate 40 and continue eastward into Albuquerque. Easy.
Saddlebags, or “panniers” if you’re feeling French, are something I’ve come to love. Whether they’re the soft, roll-top style, or the hard-sided, aluminum or molded plastic variety, when traveling long distances on a motorcycle, they’re almost mandatory. The Versys 1100 SE LT is equipped with a set of 28-liter saddlebags that split open like a clamshell. They’re shaped a little funny, likely to help with aerodynamics, or perhaps just the aesthetic, but either way, it didn’t hinder me from filling both sides with extra layers, spare gloves, and enough clothing to keep the two of us on the road for a couple of days.
They’re easy to open, too, have a crisscrossing elastic closure to keep things from falling out, and can also be locked using the ignition key. Both saddlebags can also be removed if you’re looking to take the Versys to the track or just want to reduce the overall weight of the bike for a weekend ride.
We left Phoenix around 9 am, expecting to spend at least six hours on the bike en route to Albuquerque. The weather in the Southwest this time of year is enviable for anyone living up north. However, when the sun settles in the west, temperatures drop considerably, especially at elevation. Knowing this, I packed additional layers that we could put on if our ride took longer than anticipated. Heated grips come standard on the Versys 1100 SE LT and came in clutch during our return ride, where we hit temperatures in the low 40s.
Arizona Highway 87 is a major north-south state route connecting the Phoenix metro area with the northeastern part of the state. It’s known as the Beeline Highway, although I’m not entirely sure why. Nonetheless, beeline we did, making quick work of the twisting pavement that cuts through the pine trees of the Tonto National Forest and up to the Mogollon Rim just east of the town of Payson. A quick stop in Holbrook to visit the Wigwam Motel, a quirky roadside attraction on Route 66, and a place some say inspired the town of Radiator Springs in the movie Cars, marked the midway point of our ride.
The Versys proved a perfect dancing partner through the backcountry. The added weight of a passenger and our personal belongings went unnoticed thanks to Showa's Skyhook Electronically Equipped Ride Adjustment technology, which allowed me to adjust the preload on the fly, setting the suspension up to accommodate the added weight. Fancy.
A slew of other accessories and accoutrements come standard on Kawasaki’s top-of-the-line sport touring machine, none of which went unnoticed or unused. A USB Type-C charging port is mounted to the handlebar and kept my battery anxiety at bay. The fully adjustable windscreen worked exceptionally well for my 5-foot-9-inch frame, keeping buffeting to an absolute minimum and the cold air off my chest when the temperature eventually dropped.
The quick shifter did its magic when we rolled onto the Interstate, with seamless gear shifts that prevented both the chassis and my passenger from feeling unsettled. I did hit a few false neutrals, though, namely between first and second gear, and wonder if I just wasn’t accelerating fast enough, or if I found a flaw in an otherwise seemingly perfect system. Lastly, and perhaps most surprisingly to me, were the LED cornering lights that are built into the fairing and helped illuminate the road ahead when tipping the bike into a tight corner.
They also proved useful in parking lots. Go figure.
We arrived in Albuquerque around 4 pm on Friday after a long and rather boring ride on Interstate 40 from Gallup through the Zuni Nation, across the Acoma Pueblo, and finally into New Mexico’s largest city. Semi-trucks were lined up two wide across the Interstate, the sun reflecting off their chrome trailer doors, creating a turbulent wind tunnel when riding closely behind them. It was a slog, for lack of a better phrase, but the Versys made the miles less miserable.
We spent most of Saturday doing nerd things, but did find time to hit a local coffee shop in the morning, along with a pilgrimage to Tomasita’s that evening for a proper New Mexican meal (think stuffed sopaipillas with green chile sauce). Our plan was to leave a little later Sunday, in hopes that the ambient temperature might rise a bit from the predicted overnight low of 34 degrees. We layered up, stopped for coffee, and departed Albuquerque around noon.
At slower speeds, the Versys handles like a sport bike, only with wider bars and a more relaxed, upright riding position. It doesn’t turn on a dime is what I’m getting at. But wick things up a bit, and the bike leans over effortlessly, tempting you and your inner Jonathan Rea to do World Superbike things on the winding backroads that cut across the El Malpais National Conservation Area southwest of Albuquerque.
Our destination was Pie Town, New Mexico, a place I’d visited in the past, but wanted to show the girlfriend. Why? Because pie.
Our route put us back on Interstate 40 heading west, then cutting south toward the sleepy town of Quemado. A bit of backtracking on Highway 60 put us in Pie Town around 3 pm, with ample time to try a slice of their Pie in the Sky Pumpkin at the Pie Town Pie Co.. But the desire for pie and the elongated route we’d settled on that morning over coffee meant our return to the Phoenix valley would be well after nightfall. And that meant riding across the Fort Apache Reservation, south on Highway 60 through the mountains, in the dark and likely in temperatures well below what we had hoped.
I find myself wanting less these days - less shit, less headaches, even less motorcycles. My late friend, Jim Downs, once said, “The right number of motorcycles to own is n+1, where ‘n’ is the number you currently own.” But as the years have rolled on, I find myself seeking the sharpest tool for the job, or in this case ride that I want to cross off my list.
I’ve ridden across the United States no less than ten times now, most recently this past summer, from San Diego to Seattle on a big American V-twin cruiser. And while I can’t argue against choosing to ride such a machine - especially on the Interstate system that connects our country - when the road turns into a kid's Crayon drawing, and lean angle becomes your new favorite phrase, a sport touring bike is, without a doubt, the sharpest of tools. The kind that makes you choose cornering speed over convenience.
When we finally reached elevation on our return ride to Phoenix, somewhere north of 5,000 feet, the temperature had dropped to 41 degrees. My heated grips were working overtime and the windscreen doing its damnedest to keep the cold off my core. The girlfriend was freezing, but when I looked back to check on her before pitching into another set of corners carved into the Carrizo Mountains, a modest smile could be seen through her tinted visor.
As we descended, the warmth of the Phoenix valley enveloped us like a warm hug from your favorite aunt. We had knocked down more than 1,000 miles over the weekend, riding across the Southwest at a time when much of the country is awaiting its first snowfall. The roads, scenery, and weather varied in ways that only Arizona in the late fall can afford you. And while the highway miles may have been more comfortable on a big American bagger, I wouldn’t trade the ability to lean into a sweeping corner, hunt down the apex and put all 133-horsepower to good use upon exit.
There’s just some things that a sport touring bike does better, and as it turns out, touring around the country is one of them.
